


Rushing Things

by Uratha



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 04:11:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4592427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uratha/pseuds/Uratha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles Stilinski and Scott McCall have left Beacon Hills for college, but while one looks forward to a world of new experiences, the other is convinced that it will just be more of the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rushing Things

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short little one-shot drabble running around in my head after re-watching an old episode and thinking "Alpha Beta Omega" sounds like a fraternity :) Comments and feedback welcome!

Stiles was brushing his teeth when he fell asleep over the sink, his forehead pressed against the mirror. He was dimly aware of his situation, silently cursing himself for choosing such an early class. He wanted sleep. Wasn’t college supposed to be better? Cracking a book or trying to learn anything at 8 am? It felt too much like being back in high school with that dick Mr. Harris. He didn’t miss that about high school. Come to think of it, he didn’t miss anything about high school. He finally got his shot with the girl of his dreams—Lydia Martin, whom he had been crushing on since third grade—when she had too much alcohol and too little judgement. When it got down to it, he couldn’t seal the deal. For whatever reason, _she_ was embarrassed and quickly spread the rumor around that he was gay….

… Turns out, she was right. When he finally came to that realization, he asked out the only openly gay guy at Beacon Hills High. Danny was this cute Hawaiian guy with a phenomenal body from being a goalie on the lacrosse team. He was sensitive, sweet, and completely out of Stiles’ league, so it should have come as no great surprise when he turned down Stiles’ awkward and inept proposal of going out. Unfortunately, it rattled Stiles so much that he never could work up the confidence to ask anyone else out. The remaining two years of high school were very lonely.

The only bright spot in those years was his best friend, Scott. Stiles was the one with ADHD, but there were times where Scott put him to shame. This morning was precisely one of those times. Scott was like a dog—loyal to a fault—but right now, he was being a spastic puppy. Stiles wanted to roll up a newspaper and swat him on the nose and tell him to stop, but it was 2015… Stiles hadn’t seen an actual newspaper since his mother’s obituary.

“Stiles!” Scott shouted excitedly, placing a hand on either of Stiles’ shoulders. “It’s rush week!”

“I’m aware,” Stiles grumbled back, barely pausing his dental hygiene to stare at his best friend with slack-jawed stoicism.

Scott just smiled back at the reflection giving him a harsh glare. “Aren’t you excited?”

“Oh, yes,” he muttered, spitting the toothpaste out. “Pass me my Adderall before I piss myself. I’m positively giddy.”

Scott’s brow furrowed, and instantly, Stiles felt guilty for putting the look there. Then he got pissed because Scott could do that to him in the first place. “Look, Scotty, I know you’re bouncing off the walls about all this, but I’m just… _not_.”

Scott looked thoroughly confused. “How can you not be?”

“Because I came to college to get away from high school,” he almost shouted, instantly digging his fingernails into his palms to try to focus on something other than the nerves mounting in his throat and stomach. Finally regaining his composure, he continued his explanation. “This is your thing, not mine. I’ve already had four years of pretty people telling me I wasn’t good enough to move in their circles. I don’t like being picked last for the dodgeball team on a whole new playground.”

Scott shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m an outsider, Scott. The freak whose mother went nuts. The geek who can quote every sci-fi movie ever made. The virgin who got completely shot down by both sexes. The no-talent loser who sat on a bench at every game,” he said, unaware that a tear had begun to inch its way down his cheek. “Pretty sure the only reason I was on the team in the first place was my Dad promised to let Coach out of his endless string of tickets.”

Scott, still standing behind him in the bathroom, simply wrapped both arms around him and rested his chin on Stiles’ shoulder. “It’s different now, Stiles.”

Stiles closed his eyes. He wanted to believe that… but he couldn’t. “How, exactly? Hell, half of Beacon Hills came with us. I didn’t get a fresh start. I just got to take all my baggage on vacation with me. I don’t even want to do this, because I’m fucking sick of rejection.”

“Then why put yourself through it?” Scott pouted.

Stiles pulled out of the embrace to turn and face him. “Because you want to do it. You’re going to get in because you’re you, and everyone loves you. You’re the nice one. You’re the adorable one. You’re everyone’s best friend,” he sniffed. “And when you have a fraternity house full of brothers, you won’t have time for me.”

Scott looked genuinely hurt. “You are my best friend, Stiles,” he reassured him. “That will _never_ change. And no matter if I get into a fraternity or not, _you_ are my brother. You have been since we were kids, and you will be until we’re old and gray, watching our grandkids get into the same trouble we did.”

“I’m gay, Scott. There won’t be any grandkids,” Stiles smiled, in spite of himself. The other young man’s words were having their desired effect.

“Adopt, genius,” Scott grinned.

Stiles shook his head. “Not gonna happen. Jackson was adopted. I do _not_ want a kid like Jackson. I don’t care if he did get into Stanford. That rich prick was a dick and made my life a living hell.”

Scott chuckled. “Yes, he was and did, but how very girls on a schoolyard of you. Do you really think I didn’t know you had the hots for him?”

“Busted,” Stiles blushed. “But can you blame me? The walking Abercrombie and Fitch ad used to walk around the locker room naked. You could bounce a quarter off that ass, and he was hung like a….”

“ _HEY!_ ” Scott interrupted, placing his hand over Stiles’ mouth. “I do _not_ need details. I saw him naked, and I need neither a reminder nor a Letters to Penthouse description.”

Stiles licked his best friend’s palm, causing Scott to jerk it away with a disgusted grimace. “ _Gross_ , dude!”

“Penthouse is about women, straight-boy,” Stiles laughed.

Scott just smiled. It was infectious, and Stiles found himself doing the same. After a moment of awkward silence, Scott raised an eyebrow. “Feel better?”

Stiles nodded.

“Good. Then finish getting ready. I’ll meet you after class. I just need to have a few minutes for coffee with Kira,” he waggled.

Stiles groaned. “Dude, do you seriously have to have your Skype sex this early in the morning? I think I just lost my breakfast.”

“You didn’t eat breakfast,” Scott pointed out.

“Well, it’s a good damned thing, because my appetite is _gone_!” Stiles mockingly spat. It was just one friend teasing another, and both knew it. It had taken Scott forever to get over the death of his first love, Allison, after she was murdered by Matt Daehler. Matt had been a classmate of theirs, and like some cliché news interview, he was the quiet, artistic guy no one suspected of being a homicidal stalker. Scott’s heart finally began to heal, but the Argent family never recovered—Allison’s mother committed suicide out of grief.

Shaking off such morbid thoughts, he pasted on a fake smile. “How’s she enjoying Columbia, anyway?”

“She’s loving it,” Scott beamed. “She’s bummed around having to be tutored in reading, but she’s all excited about some martial arts class she’s taking for her physical education requirement. She says they even get to use swords!”

Stiles frowned. “Is that really such a good idea? Kira’s kind of a klutz. She should leave the swordplay to bad kung fu movies,” he teased. “It’s not like she’ll get enough cred to be a respectable hot Asian chick. She can’t even speak Japanese even though she’s half-Japanese.”

“She’s half-Korean, too,” Scott said by means of defense, but instantly, he regretted it because Stiles latched onto it.

“Which she also can’t speak,” he mocked. “That means she fails in two….”

“Continents,” Scott finished, playfully irritated. “You’ve made that same lame joke before.”

Stiles chuckled. “And you still get it wrong. _Countries_ , Scotty. Japan and Korea are on the same continent. Please tell me you’re not considering majoring in anything to do with geography.”

Scott reached over, grabbed the tube of hair gel. He squirted some into his hand and ran it through his friend’s hair. “There. Get out before I major in criminal justice and figure out how to get away with murdering my roommate.”

 

Stiles was trying awkwardly to untangle the earbuds for his phone so he could listen to music on the way to class. Someone brushed against him as they ran past, and Stiles barely even noticed it until his own steps carried his eyes upward. It was a guy jogging ahead of him at a leisurely pace—a pace Stiles would swear had slowed if he didn’t know better. No shirt, just grey sweatpants and white sneakers… nothing else… not even underwear if the lack of an outline on the phenomenally flawless bubble butt was any indication. Two perfect globes of muscle, Stiles was trying desperately to figure out how his mouth was simultaneously watering and yet so dry he couldn’t swallow. Even though Stiles always thought he’d be more of a bottom when he did have sex, he would definitely make an exception for that ass. Hell, _Scott_ would make an exception of being straight for _that_ ass.

He suddenly realized that the unbelievable derriere wasn’t getting smaller. That meant it wasn’t getting more distant. That meant the jogger had stopped. _Oh, Hell,_ thought Stiles. _I’m staring at this guy’s ass, and he knows it. I’m either about to get punched, or some butter-face is going to think I wanna go pick out China patterns with him._ Slowly and hesitantly, Stiles’ gaze began to travel up the form that was now facing him. There was a very prominent and _very_ impressive VPL under the fabric of his crotch. Was that a six- or eight pack? The pecs with perfect definition and erect nipples made him lose count. Stiles kept repeating a mantra of “Straight or Ugly” in his head when he finally made eye contact. A chiseled face with spiked hair was smiling at him. _Holy shit!_ _The guy with the sparkling eyes, flawless cheekbones, cleft chin, brilliant smile, and kissable DSLs was_ smiling _at him!_

“Stiles?” the guy asked, and it immediately broke the reverie. Shaking it off before his erection grew any more uncomfortable, Stiles looked at him blankly.

“Stiles Stilinski, right?” he repeated, and Stiles found himself mutely nodding. The guy smiled at him again.

“Do I know you?” Stiles asked.

The guy shook his head. “Fourth grade was a long time ago. I can’t blame you for not remembering.”

_Fourth grade?_ Stiles was searching every memory. Finally, he found one that seemed dimly familiar. “Theo? Theo Raeken?”

He nodded.

“Jesus Christ, you grew up good,” Stiles found himself blurting before his brain could put a filter along the path to his mouth. Embarrassed, Stiles slapped both hands over his mouth and felt a red heat rise all the way from his feet to the top of his ears.

Theo laughed. “You’re not so bad yourself. I kinda bumped into you on purpose to get a closer look, but I never imagined it was you. I can’t decide if I should be mortified or pleasantly surprised.”

The shirtless young man moved closer to Stiles, almost uncomfortably close. Stiles could feel the breath on his face. Theo, however, seemed nonplussed. “I guess I’ll just have to settle for being ridiculously horny.”

Stiles, for once, was at a loss for words. He began stammering before he put an ink pen in his mouth to shut himself up before he said something _else_ stupid. His mind was reeling, and he was trying to _stop_ thinking about the incredibly hot shirtless god in front of him. Come to think of it, putting something in his mouth was probably _not_ the best mental image to accomplish that goal. It became an infinitely worse idea when Theo took the pen from him and put it in his own mouth before freeing it from the cap. In a surreal, almost daydream state, Theo scribbled something onto Stiles’ hand. Replacing the pen in its cap, he pulled it from his mouth and licked his lips, making Stiles’ knees buckle. “That’s my number. Call me some time,” he smiled before jogging backwards. He continued that way for a few yards before finally turning and sprinting away.

 

_“Theo Raeken?”_ Scott asked incredulously from the other end of the call.

“Yes, Scott,” Stiles repeated. “That would be the same name I said the last three times.”

_“Wow. There’s a blast from the past. We’ll have to go grab a coffee with him and catch up some time or something,”_ Scott suggested.

Stiles slapped his forehead when the light bulb went off in his mind. “Oh, God! I interrupted your time with Kira when I texted you.”

Scott laughed. _“It’s fine. To quote her, ‘Your dick gets plenty of attention. Go help Stiles get some!’”_

“I don’t know whether to thank her or slap her,” Stiles rolled his eyes.

_“Bitch fight!”_ Scott chanted.

“Blow me,” Stiles taunted back.

_“We tried that a few years back, remember? Wasn’t really my thing,”_ Scott chuckled.

Stiles felt his cheeks take on an uncomfortable, tomato-like hue. “Scott…!”

_“I’m sorry,”_ Scott offered, clearly trying to regain some composure while very much amused. _“Where are you now, anyway? You’re supposed to be in class.”_

“Like I could concentrate on some bullshit schoolwork after that,” Stiles countered. “I’m _actually_ getting coffee. Well, I will when I get through the line from Hell. It’s like some fucking epic game’s prerelease.”

_“God, you’re such a nerd.”_

Stiles rolled his eyes, as though his friend could somehow see it. “Will you be serious here? I’m trying to figure out what he wanted.”

_“Will_ you _be serious?”_ Scott challenged. _“A half-naked guy invades your personal space and makes a ‘Deep Throat’ reenactment with your pen before giving you his number and you don’t know what he wants?”_

“It did not deep throat my pen,” Stiles corrected. “He more just kind of lightly… sucked on it.”

_“First of all, gross! Stop oversharing. Secondly, what he wants is your cock… or your ass… or both. You’re a virgin, Stiles, not an idiot.”_

Frustrated, Stiles tried to explain while he handed the barista his money. “You don’t get it, Scott. You didn’t see him. It’s like a benevolent gay God used Jackson as a starting point then made _everything_ better: a beatific face, more muscles, a bigger dick, and an ass that could single-handedly send every gay male porn star running for retirement and therapy. There’s no way in Hell he could be interested in a guy like me.”

Stiles began securing a lid on his coffee cup at the side table. “I don’t know,” said someone commented in a deep, masculine voice so rich that Stiles awkwardly fumbled with his phone. “I think you’re cute and funny. Why wouldn’t he be interested?”

If the voice wasn’t enough, the image was heart-stopping. Crystal blue eyes the color of the Azure Coast (at least from the pictures Stiles had seen) seemed to pierce into Stiles’ very soul. The brows above them matched the silky dark hair that was miraculously cut in a mix of trendy, yet effortless, spikes and natural waves. The lips said something else, but Stiles couldn’t hear anything… he could barely breathe. He was staring at the cleft chin that was still evident beneath short, neatly-trimmed facial hair. The man had a jawline that would have made Michelangelo’s David slice his own marble throat….

… And then there was the solid wall of muscle that was the chest that Stiles had bumped into. Stiles was wrong. Theo wasn’t a god, he was just a man. But this man was a _Super_ man. Damning his own vivid imagination, the inner comic book nerd somehow twisted that thought, and now the guy was Batman… if Batman was a male stripper. The mere notion was making perspiration bead up on Stiles’ forehead while his hands went clammy and numb. Perhaps that’s why his grip failed him, and Stiles crushed the paper cup in his grasp, sending scalding hot java over his palm and fingers like a volcano. The pain caused him to wince.

“Oh, shit!” the Adonis exclaimed, hastily grabbing napkins from the counter and enfolding Stiles’ hands beneath them while encircling them again with a strong, manly grip that remained soft and reassuring at the same time. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I’ve just been in line behind you for quite a while now, and it was hard not to eavesdrop.”

Stiles opened his mouth, but nothing came out. More disconcerting was that nothing was going in. Some bizarre hodgepodge of pain, surprise, and unbridled lust was overloading his senses and short-circuiting his brain. He was in the throes of a panic attack.

“Are you okay?” the stranger asked again. Stiles wanted to answer, but his body wouldn’t obey him. He was no longer even attempting to speak. He was just beginning to shake, and as the duration got longer, the intensity was becoming worse. “Hey, look at me.”

Stiles _really_ wanted to obey that particular instruction, but he couldn’t even manage that. His body was rigid, like an epileptic having a grand mal seizure. _“Stiles! Stiles! What’s happening?”_

The handsome figure was growing more and more concerned by the second. He managed to wrest the phone from Stiles. “I don’t know who this is, but I hope you can help me. This guy is just standing here one minute, then trembling the next. I swear I don’t think he’s breathing.”

_“His name is Stiles. He must be having a panic attack!”_

Pulling the phone away from his ear for a moment, he lightly touched the back of Stiles’ neck with his fingertips. “Stiles?” he began gently. “My name’s Derek. Can you talk to me?”

Derek just stared at the blank figure that seemed to be staring _through_ him as much as back _at_ him. Without taking his eyes off Stiles, he brought thee phone up again. “How do I help him?”

_“I don’t know,”_ Scott confessed. _“The last time it happened, a girl we went to high school with kissed him.”_

Derek’s brow furrowed with a sardonic single raise. “Kissed him?”

_“Yeah,”_ Scott answered reluctantly. _“Call an ambulance or something! Please!”_

“There’s no time for that,” Derek said before pulling Stiles closer. He forced his mouth onto the younger man’s. He wasn’t sure how long to do it. He wasn’t even sure it would work. All he knew is that he was now involuntarily holding his own breath.

When Stiles’ eyelids shut, Derek wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or alarmed. Finally, he felt hot breaths on his upper lip. Sighing in relief, he pulled away. He felt his pulse quicken when Stiles didn’t immediately open his eyes. Finally, though, he did. Derek began to fidget. “Sorry about that. I was talking to your friend on the phone. He didn’t know what else to do for you,” he apologized. “If that freaked you out, again, I’m sorry. If you need to take a swing at me or something, feel free. I know I kind of embarrassed you in front of all of these people.”

Stiles took a look around. He hadn’t even noticed all the onlookers standing around him. Most were staring; some had their smartphones out, taking pictures or recording video. Stiles was only momentarily distracted by them. His eyes were drawn back to Derek. “Of all the things I could imagine doing to, with, or for you, hitting you has to be the very last.”

Derek started to speak, but slightly embarrassed, he blushed and shut his mouth. He just grinned at Stiles. “How about you let me by you a cup of coffee?”

_“Stiles! What’s happening?”_

Derek heard the voice and remembered he had the phone. “Sorry. Here’s your friend back,” he said, offering it over.

“Scott,” Stiles corrected.

_“Stiles! I’m here, Stiles!”_

Stiles placed a hand over Derek’s clumsily. “Tell him I’ll call him back.”

Derek smiled.

 

Stiles was smiling giddily in the mirror as he watched himself tie the double-Windsor knot. He had changed into a nicer button-down in an effort to be more presentable for tonight. He glanced over his shoulder to see Scott with that shit-eating grin. “What?” Stiles demanded.

“Somebody’s a lot more excited about tonight,” Scott teased.

Stiles nodded. “Somebody’s a lot more excited about everything,” he admitted. “Like some dumbass told me, _it’s different now_.”

“Gee, I wonder who that was?” Scott mocked, feigning shock.

“Okay, you were right. I’ve already admitted it. Can we drop it now?” Stiles moaned.

Scott shook his head. “If I’d known getting hit on by two guys was all it would take to get you out of this funk…”

“For the love of all things holy, please don’t finish that sentence,” Stiles interrupted.

“Still can’t believe one of them was Theo. He was a scrawny, dorky little kid that made me look big.”

Stiles shook his own head. “Trust me, he looks a _lot_ different.”

“Different… or better?” Scott posed, raising an eyebrow.

Stiles shrugged. “Well, he definitely _looked_ better, but there was something that made me kind of uncomfortable, you know? He was pushy, and not just in a flirty way. I got a bad vibe about him—like I couldn’t trust him.”

“But you’re still going to jerk off thinking about him,” Scott said flatly, trying not to laugh.

“Absolutely,” Stiles smiled back.

Scott’s mirth faded in lieu of genuine interest. “What about the other guy? Derek?”

“Nope, not going to file him in the spank bank,” Stiles told him.

“Dude, _gross_!” he exclaimed. “That’s not what I meant!”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “You have a strange checklist over what does and doesn’t gross you out. Are we going to have to have the ‘most people experiment in college’ conversation again?”

Scott rolled his eyes. “No, _ass_. I meant, what do you know about him?”

“Besides the fact that he saved my life?”

“ _We_ saved your life. I told him to kiss you,” Scott said proudly. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Stiles glared at him. “What if he was some hideous troll with warts and cold sores and bad breath?”

“Was he?”

“Not by a long shot,” Stiles smiled. “He made me forget about Theo completely.”

Scott grinned. “That good, huh?”

“Better,” Stiles blushed. “He was as much better looking than Theo as Jackson always was compared to me.”

“Wow,” Scott whistled.

Stiles shot daggers with his eyes. “Really?”

Scott smiled. “Just trying to be a supportive friend and agree with you.”

“About me being some hideous, un-dateable dog-faced boy? Next time, start an argument,” Stiles glowered. "But the point still stands. He’s the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen, real or imagined.”

“I’ve actually hit some of your internet favorites when I’ve borrowed your laptop,” Scott chuckled. “That’s a pretty impressive comparison.”

“ _Experiment_ ,” Stiles enunciated slowly, as though speaking to someone either learning-disabled or unfamiliar with the English language.

Scott sighed. “When I’ve borrowed it to talk to my _girl_ friend….”

Stiles’ faced showed unmitigated disgust. “Now I need to get some Clorox wipes to scrub down the keys before I use it again.”

“So I guess the keys stick….”

“If you ever want to have those grandkids you were talking about,” Stiles interrupted, “I would quit while you’re behind.”

Scott smiled. “Speaking of behinds, so Mr. Super-Hot….”

“No,” Stiles protested, “that’s not it.”

“So he’s not a pretty-boy?” Scott asked, confused.

Stiles shook his head. “No… I mean yes… I mean no….”

“What _do_ you mean?”

“Both and neither,” Stiles tried to elaborate. “He was good-looking, like underwear model worthy, but he wasn’t some twink—and don’t you dare try to pretend that you don’t know what that means. Derek was _built_. He was pretty, but he was also rugged. There was something uber-masculine about him, something almost predatory.”

Scott slapped his forehead, “If the word ‘musk’ comes out of your mouth, so help me God….”

Stiles just smiled. “No, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. It was more than that. My heart started racing just looking at him, and I don’t mean just from attraction. Something about him seemed dangerous, like I should be afraid of him, but I wasn’t. The minute he smiled, I felt… safe, like he wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”

“So no uncomfortableness like with Theo?”

“Uncomfortable? Yes, but like Theo? No. It was like an excitement, beyond just the hormonal, but believe me, Scott, that was in full swing.”

Scott plugged his fingers in his ears. “I do not want to hear about you swinging, in a swing, or anything to do with your erection.”

Stiles reached over and pulled his friend’s fingers out of his ears. “Can you get your mind out of the gutter, smut-monkey? I _just_ said it wasn’t like that. I’m physically attracted to him, anyone would be, but I _like_ him. He bought me a new coffee, and we just sat there and talked for hours.”

“You don’t think you’re moving a little too fast?”

“We had a coffee and talked. I’m not planning on exercising my newly-granted Supreme Court rights just yet,” Stiles smirked.

Scott grinned. “California already had same-sex marriage.”

“NOT MY POINT!” Stiles shouted.

Scott held up his hands in resigned defeat. “If you and your boyfriend had such instant chemistry, why are you going with me tonight instead of hanging with him? This is just a meet and greet. Rush is going on all week.”

“Because I want to be in a fraternity with you, and I’m not ‘Everyone loves Scott’ the lacrosse star. I need to make a good first impression if I want to have any shot at that,” he shrugged. “Besides, he said he had an obligation tonight.”

“I was not a lacrosse star,” Scott’s face registered concern.

Stiles cut him off. “You went all phenom on me during sophomore year and you know it, and don’t give me that look. Derek was not blowing me off.”

“How can you be sure?” was matched by lines of worry.

“Because we’re meeting again for coffee in the morning and at noon for lunch,” Stiles smiled.

Scott smiled back in return. “Then let’s get going so you have some good news to share with Romeo tomorrow.”

 

“I’d like to welcome you all to Alpha Beta Omega’s rush week,” the handsome young man announced from the landing atop the stairs of the fraternity house. There were so many people crammed into the reception area below that neither Scott nor Stiles was sure how anyone was supposed to get noticed, much less be memorable. “I’m Jordan Parrish. I’m in charge of new member selection, but you’ll be meeting a lot of the brothers tonight.”

He continued. “Don’t overthink it, guys. We want to get to know you, but you need to get to know us. That works best when everyone just relaxes,” he smiled warmly. “Be yourselves… and have a good time.”

“I kind of wish Isaac was here with us,” Scott said, scarcely listening to the ongoing greeting. “His older brother Cam was in ABO before he graduated and joined the military. As a legacy, he would have gotten in automatically.”

Stiles nodded in agreement. “Another familiar face would have been nice, but we both know he was never really interested in college. After Coach Lahey died, the insurance money that went to Isaac meant he didn’t _have_ to work. That’s why he’s bumming around Europe with a backpack, and we’re here looking like a couple of deer caught in headlights.”

“It’s a good look on you,” a dulcet, masculine voice said from behind him.

Stiles turned to see who was talking to him. His face instantly beamed with a grin from ear-to-ear. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Derek smiled. He looked over at Stiles’ friend. “Scott, I take it?”

The infectious grin spread to the other boy who nodded. “Nice to meet you, Derek,” he offered, holding out a hand.

Derek returned Scott’s grip, shaking his hand. “I’m glad you guys are here, but I’ll talk to you in a few minutes.”

“And now, a few words from our chapter president, Derek Hale,” Jordan concluded.

“Duty calls,” Derek smiled, turning to ascend the stairs and take his place next to Jordan. He began an obviously well-practiced and rehearsed speech. “Welcome to Alpha Beta Omega. I’ve been in love with this fraternity since my uncle Peter told me stories about being chapter president here when I was younger….”

As Derek’s voice faded into a pleasant undertone, Stiles just stared at him and smiled. Scott placed a hand on either of his shoulders and whispered into his ear. “I think you made a good first impression,” he told him, and Stiles could feel the grin behind him. “Though you might have to find something different to talk about. I’m pretty sure you getting into the fraternity won’t exactly be newsworthy for him.”

“College is definitely going to be different,” Stiles said with a smile, more to himself than to Scott.


End file.
